The Monday after Easter usually dawns the same for me each year. It’s a day of quiet peace and reflection over the past few days’ events, and contemplating their meaning. It’s also a day in which I try and relax a bit, and while I usually take that day off, I found myself sneaking into my office at the church this Monday to get a little work done. The halls, which this past Sunday were filled with laughing, smiling people, are now silent and still. The Sunday School rooms are empty, and the fellowship hall, which hosted our fellowship breakfast, is cleaned and calm. Such a reversed sight from yesterday.
As I made my way to the office, I found myself drawn into the sanctuary. The sun was pouring through the vibrant colors of the stained glass, casting a radiant glow on the dark wooden pews below. This Holy Space, which hosted hundreds of parishioners yesterday, is now also still and silent. The peace of Easter Monday is almost as loud as the worshipful chaos of Easter Sunday.
For some, this observation might appear depressing or forlorn. I’m sure that many pastors wish that their churches looked like Easter Sunday every Sunday. But perhaps we are forgetting the most important aspect of these empty pews on Monday morning. For just as the tomb of Jesus is empty, that he may go about the universe providing redemption and grace, so now is the church empty. The church is empty because its people are now out and about among the community. They are back at their jobs, their schools, their families, and their places of influence. What resides within them is the message of Jesus Christ, which can now be shared with all those with whom they come into contact! What a joyous observation! The seats are empty because the people are out sharing the Good News!
